THE SONG OF THE 



YELLOWSTONE 



v^ 



By 

Rev. Francis Varelmann 

Norwood, Ohio 



>€ 



1005 

Published, by trie Author 



LIBRARY Of GONGFftSS 


fwu CoDies 


rtuteivcu 


JUN 17 


1905 


.iUiSS & XXc. Noi 
COPY B. 






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DEDICATED TO THE 
KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS 



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Copyright 1905 by 
Francis Varelmann 




THE SONG OF THE YELLOW STONE 
9. 



ING, O muse! happy lays, 
And inspire fitting praise 

Of great " Yellow Stone Park," 
Lead my versified bark 
O'er the channel of thought 
To the wonderland sought 

Should you highly applaud 

The scenes witnessed abroad, 
Still preserved in their old 
Strong primordial mould; 

And the notes of your song 

Swell harmoniously along; 
Your best praise would amount 
To the tamest account 

Of great "Yellow Stone's" worth 

O'er all scenes of the earth. 
Call your visions to mind ! 
Grand in form and in kind, 

Of Lakes, Rivers and Streams, 

Mountains — realized dreams ; 
Nature's splendors sublime 
Of each country and clime ; 

And without any peer 

On this known mundane sphere 



Stands, the glorious mark: 

Our "National Park." 

Place with consummate tact 
In that area compact 

Of three thousand miles square 

Ev'ry specimen fair 

Of the world's leading views 
And their multiform hues ; 

Not a soul will suspect 

Their inspiring effect, 

Till in endless surprise 
It is thrown on his eyes, 

With its beautiful charms 

And its sudden alarms. 



2. 



The best entrance, no doubt, 

May be reached by the route 
Of well merited fame 
"North Pacific" by name. 

From its main line is spun 

A fair sixty miles' run. 

You leave "Livingston" bright 
In the clear morning light ; 

For quaint "Gardiner" town, 

Of Park entrance renown. 
At a reasonable fare 
A fine Pullman will care 

For your comfort and ease, 

And you go when you please. 
4 



A slight inkling of' things, 
Which the "Wonderland" bring* 

In majestic review, 

Is en-route given you. 



A fit preface per rail 

Is the old Indian trail 

Passing "Devil's Slide" peak 
To the depot unique, 

Which in quaint rustic style 

Holds attention the while 
Expectation runs high, 
When the keen strolling eye 

Spies the beautiful arch, 

Which records the swift march 
Of our civilized aims. 
Its inscription proclaims, 

What a patriot's heart 

Desired here to impart: 
"For the benefit of 
Our people" (we love) 

"And enjoyment for all 

Was erected this wall." 

Such was Roosevelt's tone, 
When the brown lava stone 

Was devoted by him 

As a grand sculptured hymn 
To our country; a praise 
Now, and all future days. 



All the tourists were glad, 

When they learned that they had 
But a short time to wait 
Near this arched entrance gate. 

For already in line 

From the mountain decline 
Rushed six fiery bays. 
Then six even matched grays, 

And six coal black in line 

Drew their coaches up fine. 
Ev'ry passenger hied 
To the stages and spied 

Soon his favorite seat, 

And his joy was complete, 

When the baggage was stowed 
With the rest of the load. 

"All aboard" was the word, 

"Hold fast" scarcely was heard; 
And the horses, they danced 
And impatiently pranced. 

Up the mountain we went 

On a pleasure trip bent. 



From the crags and the crest, 
Where the eagles find rest; 
The perpetual snow 
Cools its waters below. 



From precipitous height 

Crystal streamlets alight, 

And in madness rush by 
Massive rocks to defy. 

Roaring, rising, they swell, 

Seeming anxious to tell 

All the wonderful things 
To be seen at the " Springs." 

U. S. cavalry leads 

The proud high-stepping steeds, 
Patrols, guards in relays 
Our advance and our stays, 

And gives splendid escort 

To the "Yellow Stone" fort. 



6. 



After lunch and a rest, 

Ev'ry strenuous guest, 

For sight-seeing arrayed, 
Came forth, — no one delayed. 

Evening suits are desired 

And for socials required 
In the foyer and halls, 
For games, music and balls. 

Plain suits answer the bill, 

Good for rambling at will. 

Get thick soles for the feet, 
Or else moccasins neat. 

Cow-boy hat for the head. 

Or some shading instead. 

7 



Unless vision be strong, 

Take blue spectacles along. 
Since umbrellas are spurned, 
We to overcoats turned ; 

Or some other good wraps. 

A camera perhaps ; 
Veils with ladies' attire 
(And no styles to admire) 

Make the outfit complete. 



All were happy to meet 
Our tried versatile guide, 
Who now pointed with pride 

To that glistening spot 

"Mammoth Springs" always hot, 
Whose font ceaselessly steams 
In bright myriads of streams. 

(Webs of delicate thread, 

O'er the area spread.) 
Well curved terraces trace 
Architectural grace. 

Models, carved by the hand 

Of true nature, here stand 
On the sloping hillside, 
Where rich colors abide. 

A brown chocolate hue 

Streaked with yellowish blue, 
Laced with orange and white, 
Gray tints, darkened and light, 

8 



In a sulphurous plaid 
With pearls thickly inlaid. 

Thus enchantingly gay, 

'Mid this color display, 

Glide the silver cascades, 
Singing love serenades 

To the reigning fair queen 

Of that beautiful scene. 

See ; the frolicsome rills, 
Charming living idylls, 

Just like preachers of grace 

"Pulpit Terrace" embrace, 

From whose sculptured outline 
Of artistic design 

They respectfully bow, 

Preach a sermon on "How 
We should everywhere 
Praise God's fatherly care." 

And their touching appeal 

Stirs the audience to feel 

God's omnipotent power, 
In that grand solemn hour. 

Thence they silently stream 

Barren lands to redeem, 

And great blessings bestow 
On the acres below. 



8. 



Let us go to the source, 
Upwards wend our course ; 



Climb that structure unique 
Of mosaic antique. 

Around high terraced walls, 

Over which gently falls 

The clear water, and spreads 
Its thin mantle in shreds 

Of enameled bright glass. 

Let us carefully pass ; 
'Tis a difficult climb 
On deposits of lime, 

Iron, sulphur, and clean 

Glaring white travertine. 

There's no danger to fear, 
Yet, small currents appear 

In shape, manner and mode 

Serpentine, and forbode 

No good ; hissing hot wrath 
On their dubious path. 

The crust hollow but firm, 

Makes the traveler squirm 

At times ; fearing a break, 
Or a fall, by mistake. 

Thus, we stepping with care, 

Breathing sulphurous air 
With a vigorous puff, 
Reach the coveted bluff. 



From here patches are seen 
Of Alfalfa's sweet green, 

10 



In the valley's expanse, 
Where young buffaloes dance, 

And the black-tailed deer 

Graze unconscious of fear. 

Where elks roam without care, 
And the clumsy old bear 

With his growling old mate 

Will go early and late, 
Near the public hotel, 
And are fattened up well. 

The hotel to the left 

In that widening cleft, 

See how cheerful it looks! 
In those fairy-like nooks, 

Where the mountains expose 

Its sweet sylvan repose. 

Well built, airy and long, 
It stands bidding the throng 

Of sight-seers to share 

Its kind hospitable care. 

10. 

Yonder's "Yellow Stone" fort 
Perched in pleasure's resort. 

A camp artfully planned, 

Also carefully manned. 
Little gem of the place, 
With its smiling clean face. 

And each edifice neat 

For a homely retreat, 

11 



Most invitingly sends 

A kind welcome to friends. 
Yet a guardian's care 
Keeps the cavalry there, 

Always riding about 

On the sharpest lookout, 

At the Government's call: 
"Give protection to all. 

Hoist old glory on high, 

Let the dear emblem fly!" 

It proclaims the good news 
To the journeying crews: 

"All my proteges here 

Shall have nothing to fear. 
Men from every land 
Grasp my strong friendly hand! 

Enjoy 'Yellow Stone' Park, 

And the national spark 

Of a just and fair mind, 
Will enlighten mankind!" 



ii 



See, across the deep vale 

That decrepit and stale 

Building. Off to the rear 
A few cannons appear. 

That old ramshackle frame 

Bears a well honored name. 

That fort guarded the lands, 
When fierce Indian bands 

12 



In Eighteen Seventy-Eight, 
Flushed by Custer's sad fate, 
Made their final attack; 
But compelled to go back, 
They were forced from the land 
By brave Howard's command. 
In the carnage they fell, 
And their bloodthirsty yell 
Closed forever the fight; 
Now there's peace on that height. 
Mountain sheep now espouse 
Silent peace, as they browse. 

12. 

The last red men are said 

To have hastily fled, 

When an Indian fell 

In yon seething hot well, 

Almost hidden by dense 

Clouds of steam rising thence, 

Which the fair changing breeze 
Will soon sportively seize; 

Anon, Eastwardly veer, 

And the view will be clear. 
The guide going ahead 
Picked the way, and then said: 

"For your comfort and ease 

Follow me, if you please; 
For all over the grounds 
Boiling water abounds." 

13 



Those more venturesome sought 

Ways their own, and were caught 
And detained for a while 
On some treacherous isle. 

And the merry good laugh, 

Like the streams o'er the path, 
Gurgled loudly and fast; 
Until safely at last 

We stood right on the brink 

Of that terrible sink; 

There still bubbling to-day, 
As for centuries it may 

Have boiled old mother earth 

In a hideous mirth. 



13. 



If a hundred feet round 
Tank were sunk in the ground, 
An artesian well 
To depths no one could tell, 
And by slow, even waves 
It would draw from the caves 
Beneath, water and gas 
An astonishing mass, 
That flowed level and trim 
O'er the beautiful brim 
Of fine mineral lace, 
With an exquisite grace, 
As most gently each drop 
Left "Dame Nature's" workshop. 
14 



It would give you a hint 
Of that bottomless mint, 
Wherein treasures untold, 
In the underground mould 

Are mixed, melted and drawn 
By the generous faun, 
And unstintingly spread 
O'er the land of the dead. 



14- 



Just a few feet away 

Is another display, 

And the wonder may grow, 
How that fountain can throw 

From its orifice bright, 

In prismatic delight, 

Such cool water and clear, 
With the boiling well near. 

Its large volume and size, 

Steady fall and its rise 

Are the same as the first, 
Only minus the burst 

Of the high degree heat, 

But cool, temptingly sweet. 



15. 



To our rear the white ground 
Rises mound upon mound; 
15 



Pains the eyes, as you go; 
The top capped by the snow 
Has a belt of dark green, 
Where the woodland is seen. 
Many views on this climb 
Repay labor and time ; 
But you'll never forget 
The unique parapet 

In Minerva's domain 
Of pure white without stain. 
Marbled draperies hide 
Caves, where lovers abide. 
Onyx, crystallized stones, 
Form their petrified bones. 



16. 



Leaving fairy and imp, 

Down the terrace we limp, 
Passing many a gap, 
We spy "Liberty Cap," 

A high sequestered rock, 

Which some powerful shock 
Tore away from the hill; 
It flouts openly still 

Self-reliance this hour 

At tyrannical power. 

Well the Cap suits the thought, 
For thus freedom was bought. 

Independence is ours 

From all absolute powers. 

16 



I/. 



Being tired and worn, 

We took rest until morn, 

And then early and bright, 
To make sure all was right 

For our forty mile tour, 

We prepared to endure 

The imagined hard knocks 
O'er expected rough rocks. 

The veranda was lined 

With a people refined 

At the hour of eight, 
Who in friendly debate 

Chose their parties of nine ; 

Since the social twine 

Is not woven in haste, 
But by genial taste. 

Thus we hailed the approach 

Of the comfortable coach : 
Sturdy coachmen at will 
Showed conspicuous skill 

In controlling each steed 

At an equalized speed ; 

They were lustily cheered, 
As they gracefully steered 

Their two spans in a prance 

With their cool nonchalance. 
Seven coaches were filled, 
And by waiters well drilled, 
17 



Bundles, baggage and truck 

Were placed. When the hour struck, 
Alert drivers again 
Grasped the tightening rein. 



18. 



A sharp twitch of their lips, 

A slight swish of their whips, 
Made the horses pull out, 
And soon fairly en-route 

We passed yesterday's view, 

Still refreshingly new, 

And rolled smoothly along, 
Tuned to Nature's sweet song. 

Yes ; loud paeans and odes 

To these well preserved roads 
In grand chorus shall swell, 
Our Government to tell 

What most praiseworthy deeds 

For all citizens' needs 

It accomplished right here, 
In maintaining each year 

The great park and its roads, 

And its handsome abodes. 
For the sums it expends 
And protection it lends 

On the hundreds of miles. 

Passing narrow defiles 
Over steepest incline, 
And through forests of pine, 
18 



Near the swamps and the falls 
And most dangerous walls. 



19. 



With pathetical thanks 

We are scaling the banks 
Of a precipice rough, 
With just barely enough 

Space, up there in the sky. 

Where to safely pass by, 

There was built a strong bridge 
Of cement, on the ridge. 

It is named " Golden Gate" ; 

Alone genius great 

Could such issue impart 
To the Engineer's art 

And mechanical skill. 

We look motionless still 

From the high balustrade 
On the rolling cascade. 



20. 

After viewing this spot 
With the kodak's last shot. 

We re-enter the coach. 

By a twisted approach 
Reach the "Silver Gate" nigh. 
The fine roadbed leads high 
19 



Over narrow extremes 
Our mountain-trained teams 
To a land of surprise, 
Where the rocks seem to rise 

From the depths of their graves, 
Like old Indian braves. 
Rocks, that once were the crown 
Of huge hills crumbled down, 

Are now called the "Hoodoos," 
Which demure prison crews, 
Crouching lowly for miles. 
Seem intent on their wiles. 



21. 



High Mount "Sepulchre" now 

Shows its cold coffined brow, 
While "Electrical Peak" 
Tries new life to bespeak. 

The "Obsidian Cliff," 

As a monitor stiff, 

Points to fiery zones, 
With its high glazed cones, 

When the sun fairly shines 

On its basaltic lines. 

One grand crystallized lump, 
By some volcanic jump 

It came playfully at birth 

On the theater of earth. 

Several hundred feet high, 
Its rocks towering defy 

20 



The storm, weather and sun, 
But large crevices run 

To deep rents on its face. 

Though an object of grace 
From afar, yet when near 
A dark, cynic, cold leer 

From the deep wrinkled frown 

Stares your joy fulness down. 
The brow hangs o'er the way 
In presumptive decay. 

Emblematic deceit, 

So alluring and sweet 
On its surface to view, 
Yet its inwardness true 

Is naught else than mere spite 

Of some mischievous wight. 

22. 

Aboriginal tribes, 

So the story describes, 
Sought material here 
For their weapons austere, 

When in days long ago 

The crude arrow and bow 
And the tomahawk bore 
Savage traces of gore. 

Ev'ry lady and gent 

Tried with eager intent 
To get curios rare 
While sojourning there, 

21 



But no sprig, nor a stone 
Might they pick up to own, 
Nor a particle loose 
Gather in for their use, 
Save a piece of this glass 
From the straggling dark mass. 



23- 



Next comes " Beaver Lake" dam, 
A three-quarter mile jam 

Of mud, splinters and grass, 

One extensive morass 
By the beaver's own trade 
'Twas instinctively laid ; — 

This result of their skill 

And harmonious will. 
These strange animals build 
Like the carpenter guild, 

But instead of the saws 

Use their teeth and their jaws; 
They apply the adobe 
In original mode — 

Plaster tight all the cracks 

With their tails and their backs. 
Since the modernized coach 
Makes its rumbling approach 

To their plain, quiet homes, 

And the traveler roams 
There, with bold searching mien, 
They are leaving the scene 

22 



24. 



"Twin Lakes" are now seen; 

One sky-blue, one light green. 
Straight, distinctly cut lines 
Mark the color confines, 

Yet they form but one lake.. 

And apparently take 

Their abundant supplies 

From the same springs and skies 

By the fair forest's side 

Lovely; on the divide. 

The "Atlantic" is fed 

By one ; the other has shed 

Its streams many a year 

To the "Pacific" near. 



25- 



Of the numerous things, 
The cool mineral springs 

Are quite worthy of note. 

The unanimous vote 
Has pronounced them a pure, 
Pleasant, wholesome and sure 

Antidote, curing ills 

Without nauseating pills. 
Ask your druggist to test 
His own popular best 

"Sparkling Draught" he prepares. 

It by no means compares 
23 



With this native compound, 

Flowing fresh from the ground. 
"Iron Water Springs," too, 
Yield by nature a true 

Tonic, flowing their flood 

To replenish thin blood. 

By the Government laws 
Speculation's sharp claws 

Can not handle a drop ; 

You're invited to stop 

And for pleasure's sweet sake, 
Here at all times to take 

Freely any amount 

On your private account. 

26. 

After pleasant delays 

We strike burdensome ways, 
Which, enjoyable too, 
Are described in one view. 

No planned order is laid, 

The attention is paid 

To the general contour 
Of the following tour ; 

Which quite anxious to learn, 

No adventure we spurn. 
Casuality may 
Bring us cheer or dismay, 

As our fortune wheels trend 

On the roads' crooked bend. 
24 



With their usual care 
Drivers skillfully dare, 
On these corkscrew-like curves, 
Test their steadiest nerves, 

And land safely their load 
By an inch of the road. 
Quick pulsation starts 
In the bravest of hearts, 
On the issue intent 
Of this stirring descent. 
Soon all fear is allayed; 
We are quietly swayed 

By the features around 
As we cover the ground. 

27. 

Now the air becomes rilled 

With all kinds of distilled 
Combinations of smell, 
Which unerringly tell 

That the basin is near. 

We proceed with a cheer, 

Interchanged with a scare, 
Which all furtively share 

On the crested outline 

Of the verging decline. 

Qualms of heat on the void 
Vegetation destroyed, 

Check the hastening approach 

Of our quaint looking coach. 



Springs of "Frying Pan" fame 

Bear the Devil's own name; 
While thus speaking the word 
"Thunder Mountain" is heard. 

"Norris Station" ahead, 

Snugly warmed by a bed 
Of great geysers, and all 
A perpetual squall. 

Obscure rumblings grow plain ; 

Ragged edges explain 
The upheavals of yore 
We have come to explore. 

Earth's prime wonders to see, 

We halt cautiously; 
Nearly blinding to sight 
Are the miles of the white 

Crusted chemical mass 

We now nervously pass; 
So uncanny and weird 
And so frightfully bleared 

Is the ominous space 

In volcanic embrace, 
That with tremor we gaze 
On this wonderful maze 

Of both fountain and shower. 

'Tis Inferno's heat power, 
A grand moving display 
Of great torrents at play, 

And from deepest abyss 

It emits a sharp hiss. 
26 



With a shuddering thrill 
One stands, breathless and still, 
O'ercome by the spell 
At this picture of hell, 
Where mad goblins below, 
Clasped in shackles of woe, 
In one hideous whir 
So convulsively stir. 
Borne on sulphurous air, 
Their wild shrieks of despair 
Throw their echoes around, 
A loud, harrowing sound. 

28. 

Hear! they fume and they rage 

In their perilous cage, 

And belch forth a great stream 
Of hot water and steam ; 

At times straight as a die, 

As if heaven to defy, 

Then curved lowly to earth, 
Quite ashamed of their mirth; 

Since, soon conquered, they must 

Bow down humbled to dust ; 

They fall back to their doom 
In the dark, dismal tomb. 

Phantom funeral shrouds 

Rise, alarming the clouds ; 

Massive volumes of spray 
Fleeing nimbly away, 

27 



Which when touched by the sun 
Into rainbows are spun. 



29. 



Sacred story of old 

Speaks of Lucifer bold, 

Who God's equal would be 
In that fatal melee, 

When he, proud of his sway, 

Led his minions astray, 

And dared claim as his own 
The Omnipotent's throne. 

Him Saint Michael did face 

With his Angels of grace, 

And with God's help equipped, 
The proud cohorts outstripped. 

In a moment of thought 

The great battle was fought; 

From bright Heaven they fell 
Swift as lightning, pell-mell. 

Chaos trembling in space 

Stamped the hideous trace 

On our globe; and the clews 
Musing fancy here views. 

Demure ghosts in defile 

Trace the place of exile, 
Pallid corpses of woe 
Guard the captives below. 

Far off, mustered in line, 

Angel monuments shine, 
28 






Nature's beautiful smile 
Standing guard all the while, 

And from sun-bathed tiers 

Ring victorious cheers ; 
Telling witnesses they 
In one image portray 

In minutest detail 

On both mountain and vale 
The great struggle of old 
Here with emphasis told. 



30. 



Gruesome here ; pleasant there ; 
Contrast everywhere. 

Here bewildering care ; 

Angels beckoning there. 
Here the geysers' hot pool ; 
There the rivulets cool. 

Here the boisterous noise ; 

There sweet quietude's joys. 
Here all wrapped in the cares 
Of continual scares ; 

There in liberty's air, 

Casting off every care, 
You walk gayly among 
Nature's melody song. 

Here the bleached expanse ; 

There the woodland romance. 
Here the anarchist's trail; 
There law and order prevail. 
29 



Here charred trunks and debris; 

There the evergreen tree. 
Here the coated remains; 
There the flowery plains. 

Here the cavernous flue; 

There bright vistas of blue. 
Here forbidding dark cells; 
There the welcome hotels. 

Here the senses are dulled; 

There harmoniously lulled. 



3i- 



Still in good humored mood 

In the high altitude, 

Which at seven to eight 

(Or more) thousand feet rate, 

Gives invigorating air 

And an appetite fair, 

We push forward our way, 
Dusty, warm, but still gay. 

"Gibbon Valley" and falls 

With its canon enthralls 

The soul; thus we roll on 
And soon enter upon 

"Fire-hole" river, a bright, 

Clear, picturesque sight. 

At night, fountain hotel 
Housed exceedingly well 

Our crowd. It is built 

On grounds, which like a quilt 

30 



All disfigured and torn, 
Are spread weirdly forlorn 
In a geyser's hot sphere, 
By all odds more severe 

Than the places we last 
So admiringly passed. 



32. 



Two great scenes of the park 

Are well worth the remark. 
Many people prefer, 
As they frankly aver, 

The sleek paint-pot's strange muss, 

Or the mud-geyser's fuss, 

To the steam and the spray 
In which geysers must play. 

The mud-geyser is fierce, 

Grinding, slashing, to pierce 

Through all bounds of restraint, 
While the paint-pots are faint, 

As they boil in a slow 

Way, their colors aglow. 

Here are paint-pots of mud — 
Circles, forming a stud 

Of rare colors ; and set 

On the cap of the wet 

Landscape, may be seen 
With an interest most keen. 

The mud boiling like mush. 

Flour paste, or thick slush, 

31 



In rose, pink and light grays 
Sends its moisture in rays, 

Seeping over the rim, 

Down the face of a grim 

Looking hillside of stubs 
And disqualified shrubs. 

Here the bears have their home, 

Unmolested they roam ; 

And according to rank 
And size, quietly flank 

The dark bordering line 

Of woods, ready to dine. 

33- 



The next morning found all 

Well prepared for the call 
Other wonders to see 
Of a varying degree. 

Numbering thousands in all, 

It is hard to recall 

Each imposing new sight 
By its name or its right 

Of a specialty mark 

On the face of the park. 

There's the "Hurricane" old, 
The "New Crater" so bold; 

Then the "Monarch's" deep pool 

And the "Constant's" fair rule. 
Then the "Devil's Inkstand," 
And the "Congress Springs" 

32 



band; 



The " Prismatic Lake's" treat, 
The "Excelsior's" great feat. 

"Fountain," "Clepsydra" hot, 

And the "Mammoth Paint Pot" ; 
"White Dome," "Great Fountain's" life, 
The "Black Warrior's" strife. 

While some kept us amused, 

Others flatly refused 
To exhibit their force, 
Stubborn, they, to the source 

Of eruption withdrew. 

It was awful to view 
These great monsters asleep 
In the caves of the deep, 

Whose walls, rock-ribbed and worn, 

Showed the strain they had borne. 



34- 



Ever onward we ride 

Up and down on the side 

Of the mountain's ravine, 
Till "Old Faithful" is seen. 

A prolific supply 

Of fonts, squirting up high, 

And lakes, pools and long strings 
Of ebullient springs, 

In succession appear. 

Day of Judgment seems near. 

"Giants," "Lion," and his mate, 
Their "Cubs," "Splendid," so great; 

33 



"Grotto," "Grand," of renown, 

" Comet," " Castle " with frown ; 

"Mortar," "Sawmill" and "Fan,' 
"Punch Bowl," drink if you can. 

"Jewel" and the "Cascade." 

"Turban" properly made. 

"Economic" and "Sponge," 
And "Surprise" in a lunge. 

Then strange "Riverside," too, 

And " Old Faithful," the true ; 
"Sunset," "Emerald" pool, 
"Biscuit," "Blacksand" so cool. 

"Artemesia" alive, 

"Oblong," "Daisy," "Beehive." 



35- 



If a natural hive 

For enlargement would strive 
To ten times its full size, 
And by sudden surprise 

Like a geyser would act, 

'Twould be this one intact. 

"Morning Glory Springs" 
Form a well of delight. 

Bear this flower in view, 

Then suppose it still grew 
In size, fifty feet round; 
Dig its form in the ground 

And be sure to imprint 

Its own loveliest tint 

34 



bright, 



On the walls of the hole; — 
Then your velvety bowl, 

Filled with water, that's clear, 

Will resemble this here. 

All the fountains and wells 
Work in different spells ; 

Some do comical freaks 

At times, resting for weeks ; 
Others daily appear. 
Few perform once a year, 

Like tragedians sublime; 

Some keep accurate time; 
But of all in the stew, 
Grand "Old Faithful" is true 

To his friends ; there's no fail 

Of his hourly tale 

Ev'ry day and at night 
In the glaring searchlight 

Of the "Old Faithful" inn, 

Season out, season in. 

36. 

The hotel is a fine 

Home of "Yellow Stone" pine. 
Massive logs with their bark, 
As they grew in the park, 

Were hewn — set into place 

As style, beauty or space 

Required thickness or length, 
Or a suitable strength. 

35 



Limbs in similar style 
Were cut, fitting the pile, 

That presents, miles away, 

A grand rustic display. 
Twigs and branches and root 
Were selected to suit. 

Portal, bannister, hall, 

Chairs, fixtures, the wall, 
Windows, gable and flume, 
Aisles, the walls of each room, 

Raw materials adorn 

Them; by plans, genius born, 
Of architecture technique, 
Rustic, pleasing, unique, 

Of original design 

In a country of pine. 



37- 



An odd feature there, too, 
Is the chimney and flue ; 

As in days long ago, 

Burning logs sprightly throw 
Their warm rays over those 
Who come nestling up close 

When a rest is desired, 

Feeling chilly and tired. 
In the evening great sport 
Filled the quiet resort. 

A Missourian born 

Deftly cracked the pop-corn, 



And the merry jokes dropped 

As the pop-corn was popped, 
And the order went out 
To all children about 

To enjoy the hot meal ; 

Then the crowd did appeal. 

Both the young and the old 
Were real children, all told. 

38. 

What here pleases one most 

Is the genial host, 

One old "Larry" by name, 
And of national fame; 

His quick sallies of wit 

Have the genuine grit, 

Are a gentleman's fun 
And insulting to none. 

Flying humorous things, 

His jokes scatter no stings 
Like the wasp or the bee ; 
Resemble tips of the flea, 

Whose fine work is concealed 

And is easily healed. 

One good story he spun 
Of a nobleman's son, 

Whose inflated conceit 

Thought the rule to defeat 
Of each going in line 
To the tables to dine. 
37 



This great scion averred 

It had never been heard 
That a man of his tone 
Should not dine all alone; 

That he hated a crowd, 

And hence must be allowed 

The first privilege, you know, 
Being Count " So and so." 

Such claims nettled the rest ; 

No American guest 

Yields his fairly won race 
In the scramble for place 

At this stage of the game. 

Only ladies may claim 

To have preference shown, 

A " Magna Charta " of their own. 

On equality's plan 

There's no privileged man. 
To men serving the State 
In Congressional debate, 

To diplomacy's star, 

To the heroes of war, 
To executive lights, 
Who from Government heights 

Keep law's order intact ; 

To all genius in fact, 

To all people of note, 
By unanimous vote 

Great distinction is shown ; 

A respect of their own 
38 



Held by courteous men, 

But not for Counts of "N. N." 

Disappointed, he took 

One long monacled look 

At the people ; then bent 
On dire vengeance he went 

To the host of the place, 

Wild rage flushing his face, 
Sought a speedy redress 
For the slighted noblesse, 

Raised his quivering hand 

And said: "Please understand 
I'm a Count, much abused!" 
A Count; Larry now mused: 

"You count only for one, 

That is all can be done ; 

If you count on a lunch, 
Please, sir, go with the bunch.' 



39- 



The next morning we took 

The last lingering look 

At "Old Faithful's" display, 
And then pleased, went away. 

Twice we passed on the ride 

The "Continental Divide," 

"Craig Pass," "Shoshone Point" view s 
And the "Lake Shore Springs" too; 

All instructive and fine. 

(Mammoth trees on our line.) 
39 



Our teams, somewhat fagged, 

At intervals lagged. 
There's a company code 
For the manner and mode 

By which drivers must act. 

It requires good tact 
To keep from the first start 
Certain distance apart 

From the coach just ahead; 

For there's always a dread 
Of an accident here, 
Should the road not be clear. 

Not a curse word was heard. 

An impatient word 
And the crack of the lash 
Gave new vigor and dash. 

40. 

Safely thus we bowled on, 

At noon lighted upon 

"Thumb Lunch Station," a place 
Where a spirited race 

For lunch daily occurs. 

The pure mountain air spurs 
Such competitive feat 
To get something to eat. 

And the prize is soon won 

By contestants ; not one 

Need complain of the deal, 
As he meets his square meal, 
40 



Quickly served in its course 
By the skilled waiting force. 

41. 

As per schedule the tour 

After lunch gives an hour 
To admire and inspect 
The fine scenic effect 

As the waters expand 

In the shape of a hand ; 

The great thumb forms the bend, 
To which distance doth lend 

Sweet enchantment in view 

Of the indigo blue, 

As it gradually melts 
In the higher air belts, 

Into azure and bright 

Revelations of light. 

They who tell you and sigh, 
"Go to Naples and die," 

Tarry, silent and dumb, 

On the banks of the "Thumb." 
If kind Nature's display 
Brought no serious dismay 

With pale death in its train 

In a foreign domain; 

Some sweet ecstasy will 
Hold them thoughtfully still 

Just for beauty's own sake 

At the "Yellow Stone" lake. 
41 



4 2. 



'Tis a, mirror, forsooth, 

That reflects the plain truth, 
As the mountains of faith 
Here their images bathe, 

And the heavenly sky, 

Whose submerged effigy 

Bids your deep-sunken hope 
To rise, no more to grope 

In the shadows below ; 

Let encouragement grow 

And ascend to skies blue, 
And all efforts renew ; 

Fair glass, placid and grand, 

Whose soft waves greet the land, 
Where pure smiles from above 
Breathe fond zephyrs of love, 

'Tis a message to earth 

By Olympus' girth 

Clasped exceedingly bright, 
This enchanting delight. 

In the whole world there is 

But one higher than this, 

Though in shape none excels 
Our lake as it swells 

In pride over the land, 

Like a generous hand, 

Wherein nature did trace 
A great country's good grace. 
42 



It yields every sort 

Of amusement and sport. 

Quite renowned for its fish, 

A fresh, savory dish. 
If to angling inclined, 
It is here you will find 

Opportunity fine 

For the rod, hook and line. 
You may either employ 
A real bait or decoy, 

Or a minnow or fly, 

Or a grasshopper spry, 
You try catch all you can ; 
No defined legal plan 

Will conflict to arrest 

Piscatorial zest. 

43- 

It is well to remark 
That throughout the great park, 
Though the fisherman may 
Ply his art any day, 
Yet no hunting is done 
With the trap or the gun ; 
Uncle Sam well protects 
The park ; daily inspects 
Its environs and scene 
To preserve them a clean 

Work of nature's display; 
Just improving the way, 

43 



Where safe travel and rest 
May please tourists the best. 

44- 



Our time has expired ; 

We have amply admired 
The attractions of note. 
Lovely pools, I might quote, 

And fine "Paint Pots" around. 

Also geysers abound, 

With their usual muss. 
But without fire and fuss. 

The good steeds after rest 

Now appeared to request 

By their hurried approach 
That we move to the coach ; 

Their sharp instinct has learned 

That now homeward they turned. 
A fine steamer awaits, 
Its proportion and rates 

Of the passenger crew. 

Who in doubt what to do 

Leave their suffrage prevail 
For a ride or a sail. 

The strong vessel was bought 

In small pieces and brought 
By rail, wagon and teams 
To the lake, where the beams 

Were joined, fitting each line 

Of the ship by design 

44 



Until all was complete 
To steer safely and fleet. 

A new ship is now made 

In the forest's cool shade 
Of a favorite dell, 
Near the "Lake View" hotel. 

The roads covered with dust, 

And the changes (that must 
Be made) scarcely begun, 
Stamped the ride a hard one. 

On this, or other pretense, 

At an extra expense, 

We were offered to take 
The white swan of the lake. 

Great inducements were shown, 

While reflection was thrown 

On the coach and the "horse," 
All for us to indorse. 

Shall't be coaches or boat? 

It was settled by vote. 

45- 

Our party of nine 
Agreed all to decline 

The boat; others there were 

Who accepted the fare. 
The real pleasure it lends 
To be faithful as friends 

All through thick and through thin 

They neglected to win. 

45 



Our motto was plain: 

Staunch friends to remain, 

And let come what there may, 
We'll join fortunes and stay 

In the coach, as before, 

Drawn by "our Big Four." 

So through all the gray dust 
Not a darkening gust 

Of discouraging care 

Wafted in the warm air ; 

But right happy all day, 
And most courteously gay, 

Amid laughter and song 

We meandered along. 

"Lake Side's" yellow hotel 
Pleased us tolerably well. 

All the servants and boss 

Were preparing to cross 

O'er the dense timber land, 
Till next year to disband, 

Except lake, fish and bear, 

There was no specialty there. 

4 6. 



Without much incident 

Quickly farther we went, 

To what some thought to be 
Best of all you could see ; 

For "Grand Canon" to do 

Was our object in view. 
46 



A strange sight of the day 
Was a snake on the way. 
Of all whimsical streams, 
Writhing " Snake River " seems 
Queerest, wending its way 
With a tedious delay; 
Quite reluctant to move 
In its slime-covered groove, 

Moving forward some rods, 
It turns back at all odds 
In delirious mood, 
As if feeding the brood 

Of young snakes in the grass ; 
Paying tribute to pass. 
The "Great Falls" being near, 
It moves slowly from fear, 

Like the gloom that lies low 
Before thunder storms blow. 

47- 

Why the N. P. R. R. 
Has adopted, at par, 

As its emblem of note 

This design so remote 
It is hard to surmise. 
From its own enterprise, 

Which has carved a fine bed, 

On which daily are sped 
From the East to the West, 
With good comfort and rest, 
47 



Men of every class, 

And goods — tons shipped en-masse. 
It may be to contrast 
With the century past, 

When with wearisome climb, 

At much loss of his time, 
The explorer must seek 
His way over the peak 

And the gulches, and pass 

Forests, streams, and a mass 
Of irregular piles 
Of rock stretching for miles. 



4 8. 



But we will not delay 

At the camps on the way. 

Hear, the steeds slowly tread 
Their pace. Lo, things to dread 

Speak instinctively now 

At the ''Elephant's" brow, 
With mysterious air 
Bid us all enter there. 

In that region of dreams 

The Creator, it seems, 

His great masterpiece drew 
In one wonderful view. 

By some heavenly hints 

All the various tints 

Were diffused on the sight 
From abyss to sunlight. 

48 



Blending colors on stone, 
That so wondrously shone 
In those awful ravines, 
Drew majestical scenes. 
Rainbow arches ahead 
O'er deep chasms were spread, 
Where the cataract fell, 
Sights no language can tell. 
And no words can impart 
The Almighty's fine art, 

Used in shaping this land, 
So tremendously grand; 
With all beautiful, too, 
Grows the ravishing view 
To mortality's eye 
Spellbound rapturously. 
Huge formations are cast, 
Like veiled nuns of the past 
In procession adore 
Nature's God evermore, 
Singing chorals of love, 
Praise the Maker above 

Of that mystical shrine, 
Where all powers combine. 

49- 

Here the " Yellow Stone's " flood ) 
With a soul-stirring thud, 
By a marvelous force, 
In its turbulent course, 
49 



With a roar and a splash, 
And a deafening clash, 

Runs wild over the walls, 

And with lightning speed fall? 
On vast columns, that bore 
The shock centuries before ; 

And is churned into foam 

'Neath the nebulous dome, 
Which spectral like looms 
O'er the dead river's tombs ; 

Yet the stream is not dead. 

'Tis a silvery thread, 
Through the canon's dark space; 
Whose path you can trace 

By the turreted walls 

And the castle-formed halls, 
By cathedrals and spire 
An effulgence of fire 

In the glare of the sun, 

All a glorious One. 



50. 



The good friends whom we met 

We shall never forget. 

Neither joys of the past 
Nor the present will last, 

But in memory's fold 

They shall often be told. 

All the kindness displayed 
On excursions we made 

50 



O'er mountain and dale 

With fondness we hail. 

In the " Yellow Stone" Park 
The quick, humorous spark 

Flashed so graciously bright 

As a source of delight. 

May for years yet to come, 
Of all brightness the sum, 

A sound, hearty, good laugh 

Be our traveling staff 

On life's changeable ways 
Of success and delays. 



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